Not gonna lie, for the longest time I didn’t get that the horror of “for sale: babe shoes, never worn” was that the baby died before he could wear the shoes or whatever I thought it was “my kid is a fucking nightmare and I can’t get him to wear his shoes”.
All that quip shows is that Ernest Hemingway never listened to women, who would have told him that the one thing you know for sure about babies is that they never come out the size you fucking plan for.